I was rolling in the moolah like a Middle-Eastern ruler,
Sitting pretty on a veritable mint.
I'd sufficient filthy lucre to make Atahualpa puke or
Even Croseus have a fit, but now I'm skint.
My enormous stash of duckets could have filled a thousand buckets,
I had green and cash and folding stuff galore.
Though my vast supplies of gravy could have subsidised a navy
If I'd wanted, at the present time I'm poor.
When I used to drip with money I could always get a honey
Round to frolic in my gilded antique bed.
My innumerable riches rendered everyone my bitches,
But I'm currently completely out of bread.
I was so supremely wealthy people said it was unhealthy,
And I took their criticism on the chin,
Unaware my life in clover would be well and truly over
When I bet the lot on Hillary to win.